


Everything You Think I Am and Then Some

by MizJoely



Series: SherlollyPrompts [45]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Crack, Sherlolly - Freeform, Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2019, Swaplock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 18:05:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18124667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: Another entry for Sherlolly Appreciation Week (SAW 2019). Semi-swaplocky in that Sherlock is desperately trying to get Molly to realize he's asking her out, and she's snarky and oblivious.





	Everything You Think I Am and Then Some

**Author's Note:**

  * For [broomclosetkink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/broomclosetkink/gifts).



> Much obliged to Broomclosetkink for brainstorming and the hair gel line (you'll see). T rating is for some naughty language and Sherlock's dirty mind. Enjoy!

"Molly!"

Sherlock paused dramatically in the door to her small office, coat flaring and settling around his legs as he observed her at work. Scribbling away ( _paper and pencil, so low tech but she preferred her rough draughts to be done the old fashioned way and he preferred not to have his head bitten off so refrained from commenting_ ), head down, lips pursed in concentration, her free hand waving in a vague 'hold on' gesture.

"Molly," he whined, but she continued to ignore him. Just like always. No matter how hard he tried, she just wouldn't pay attention to him, at least not the way he wanted her to.

Why couldn't she see he was absolutely smitten with her? Did he really have to come right out and tell her, like John recommended?

No, too obvious - and too damned difficult, which was something he hadn't told John. Sherlock's deepest, darkest secret was that, no matter how hard he tried to just tell her how he felt, he always ended up with his size 11 feet firmly wedged in his mouth.

Well, not today, dammit! He was a man on a mission. This time was going to be different!

"Molly," he said again, dropping his voice to its deepest, smoothest register. The Voice that worked on so many others in the past. "If I wasn't everything that you think I am, everything that I think I am, would you still want to help me?"

Molly sighed and looked up at him in annoyance. "Jesus you fucking drama queen, did you misplace your hair gel or what?"

"Chinese craving," he blurted out, damning himself for once again allowing her to put him on the back foot. He'd meant to ask her for dinner, not just squawk out what he wanted to eat!

Well, what he wanted to eat aside from Molly's sweet little pus…

"Carving, did you say?" she asked, finally laying down her pencil and looking up at him. "A Chinese carving? Was it stolen?"

She stood up, brushing down her skirt (he loved it when she wore a skirt, she needed to do so more often) and shrugging out of her lab coat. "Is John not available, or is this one of those cases where you need a woman's touch?" She snort-laughed. Adorably. "Of course, I'm used to touching dead bodies so I'm not sure how womanly my touch might be, especially if we're going undercover-fake dating or fake engaged?" She frowned at her hands. "Fake dating, I'm betting, unless you brought along a ring?"

His head was practically spinning at how quickly this situation had spun out of control. "Dating, yes," he said. Oh wouldn't John be cackling with laughter to see his usually suave, sophisticated flatmate and partner in crime (solving) flailing about like this! And all because of sweet little Molly Hooper, self described morgue mouse, the only woman who'd ever managed to fluster him like this ( _well, aside from Irene Adler but that wasn't the same thing at all and had been over like a flash whereas he'd been floundering around his feelings for Molly for YEARS and wait, what was the question…?_ )

"Dating, fake," he repeated stupidly. "To, erm, get a closer look at a suspect. At Lee Ho Fook's, you'll enjoy their lemon chicken, it's your favourite, right? Lemon chicken?"

"Is the owner the suspect?" Molly asked as she dug around in her desk drawer, finally coming up with her oversized handbag - not the messenger bag today, no research being worked on, excellent, she wouldn't be in too much of a hurry to get home except for that blasted cat of hers. She overfed him anyway, would do him good to...damn, he'd lost track of the conversation again.

"Um, the owner, suspect...no, not a suspect," Sherlock said as her question finally filtered through the maze of panicky babble his mind had disintegrated into. "He'll let us stay as long as we need," he added as a bit of inspiration finally wedged its way through to his frontal lobe. "Did him a favour once."

Molly glanced up at him, a small smile quirking her lips. "Did you get him off a murder charge?"

"No," he replied, finally feeling his heart rate slow down to something approaching normal - and oh, blessed order reasserting itself in his mind! "Helped him put up some shelves. Shall we?"

As he pulled the door shut behind them, Molly turned her face up toward his, a small smile quirking the corners of her lips. "What?" he asked ( _not at all defensively, nope_ ).

"John said you would cock this up," she said. "Asking me out on a date," she added in clarification as he stared  _(not stupidly, nope, not at all_ stupidly) at her. "But then, I probably shouldn't have teased you like I did."

And then, miracle of miracles, she reached out and laid her hand on his chest, right above his galloping heart. "But you really are a drama queen," she said with a cheeky little smile as she rocked up onto the tips of her toes and - bliss! - planted a soft little kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"And you really are going to be the death of me one of these days, Molly Hooper," he replied, daring to press a far less chaste kiss on her lips.

And because it was his lucky night, she did  _not_ haul off and smack him one with her should-be-classified-as-deadly-weapon handbag - but she  _did_ let him kiss her properly after he walked her home after dinner.


End file.
